With Doodles, there was never much to do. An occasional, “No, Doodles!” or the shutting of a gate, and things were just hunky dory.
Not so with the Pie. Suddenly, I’m laughing at the idea of babyproofing. Who needs to babyproof? What the heck is a baby going to do? Now, toddlerproofing, that’s another story! My God, is that girl into everything! Nothing is safe! The phone that has sat by my bed for the past four years? Now removed from the charger and placed every morning on an extra-tall dresser. My wallet on the kitchen counter? She’ll pull the newspaper that she can grab a corner of and use it to knock of the twelve items it takes until the wallet comes crashing to the floor. We tell her she can’t jump on the bed/couch/chair? She pushes toys over so she can climb on top of them and climb up and jump anyway. Not allowed to touch the stereo? That’s fine. She’ll go for the TV. Denied a nursing for three minutes. Drop on the floor, crying, screaming, “Miiiiiiiing Miiiiiiiiing! Mommy, Miiiiiiiiiinnnnnnng Miiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnng!” (In case anyone was wondering how that old weaning thing was going.) I don’t respond fast enough. Duck! Anything within reach is going to be flying in seconds.
Protect your valuables. Lock up your maidens. Gird your loins. There’s a Pie on the loose.
